


Looking for Sandburg

by MrsHamill



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, First Times, Humor, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-03
Updated: 2002-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post SenToo, Jim goes looking for a missing Sandburg, but finds more than he realized was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Sandburg

**Author's Note:**

> For Jane Mailander, who made me laugh out loud at work and embarrassed me in front of my boss. This is the punishment I get for lurking. Since my alpha beta is still down, this hasn't been beta'd. Sorry.

Part the First: In Which Sandburg is Missing 

* * *

In retrospect, it shouldn't have taken Jim as long as it did to realize something wasn't quite right with Sandburg, but, being fair to himself -- a far too rare occurrence since their return from Mexico -- he had been somewhat preoccupied. Death and resurrection, chasing bad guys to foreign countries and trying to sort out those -- whatchamacallits, feelings -- for miss tall, blonde and now brain-dead could take a lot out of a guy. He knew that Sandburg was all right -- well, physically all right. The congestion in his lungs was gone and he seemed healthy. Of course, a normal Sandburg could never be 'normal' when compared to anybody else... 

But one day, when Jim lifted his head from a morass of paperwork and looked about grumpily for his walking thesaurus, he discovered said thesaurus was not around. It suddenly hit him: Sandburg wasn't there. Well, duh. No flies on Ellison. But... Sandburg hadn't been at the station for a while, actually. A quick call to Rainier confirmed that he hadn't been at his office either. 

Jim sat back and furrowed his ever-widening brow in somewhat painful thought. Could there be another new girl in the picture? No, because although Sandburg had been staying out late and eating out more than eating at home, he didn't have the normal, bouncy, "damn I'm good" Sandburg strut that meant he was getting some. And he hadn't smelled of sex either. He'd smelled of... Jim sat up straighter. Sandburg had been smelling of melancholy. The few times Jim had noticed anyway. Damn. 

Hurriedly, Jim finished the last of the reports, printed and signed and stapled in triplicate, sliding the finished products into Simon's inbox. "Mind if I take the rest of today and tomorrow, sir?" he asked, once Simon acknowledged the papers. It was late afternoon on a Thursday, and Jim felt he was owed anyway. 

"Anything going on?" Simon replied, not even looking up. 

"Nope." 

"Fine. Keep your cell with you." And just like that, Jim was out the door, into his truck, looking for Sandburg. 

It was like a treasure hunt, or one of those ridiculous clue finding games, Jim reflected that evening after a fruitless search. Sandburg hadn't been at the University, hadn't been at any of his normal haunts off-campus or on, hadn't been at any of his usual 'thinking spots.' Jim knew he could have called the man; he could simply wait for Sandburg, who, if he held to recent habit, would be home between seven and nine, looking normal, if a little subdued. Jim could, easily, just corner Blair and grill him on his whereabouts and whachadoings -- but, well, shit. Where was the fun in that? Besides, Jim wasn't a detective for nothing. 

So, the next morning, Jim rose, showered, ate and left the loft as though going to work. Blair had been his usual frazzle-haired shuffling Frankenstein's monster, responding to Jim's grunts with monosyllables of his own, and Jim was dismayed to realize that was about the extent of their communication for the last several days. Not that Jim had ever been particularly talkative. Especially in the morning. But it was clear that something was wrong. And now that he recognized that fact, by God, Ellison was going to find out what it was and fix it. 

Blair didn't actually leave the loft until close to eleven, and Jim was surprised to see him put a bucket of yard tools in the trunk of the battered Volvo. Following the baby-poop-green vehicle was simplicity itself -- even though the '69 Ford wasn't exactly not noticeable -- though Jim nearly gave up the chase when Sandburg's first stop was a florist. It must be a new girl, he thought. 

He hadn't counted on the trail leading to one of Cascade's three major cemeteries. 

Well, shit. 

Jim parked behind the information center in an out of the way corner and just sat for a moment, deep in thought. After a while, he got out of the truck and walked around the building to look at the expanse of manicured lawn and monuments. In the near distance, he could see Sandburg's car stopped along one of the access lanes, and could see the man himself, kneeling, his back to Jim, laying flowers on a neatly and newly cared-for grave. Jim closed his eyes in pain; he didn't need to be a Sentinel to know who's grave it was; he had purchased the plot for her himself, unwilling as he was to allow her body to be returned to Hong Kong after her death. 

Separated by half a mile and millions of questions, the two men remained motionless while bees hummed and a brilliantly blue Stellar's jay yelled at Jim for standing too close to his nest. When Blair finally stood, Jim stirred, gave the bird an evil eye, and began walking out through the cemetery. 

He had to adjust his trajectory when Blair climbed back into the Volvo and moved to another part of the cemetery, but he was in no hurry, the day was nice, and the walk gave him plenty of time to think. By the time he caught up to Sandburg, Blair was on his knees at another gravesite, the bucket of lawn tools out and being used diligently, even as he kept up a low, one-sided conversation. 

"You would have hated it, Janet," Jim heard, along with the clicking of the trimmers as they worked on an ivy planted near the headstone. "The place was simply _so_ commercial. I remember you telling me once how third-world nations hate us so much because our culture is so pervasive, well, damn. I guess then that Sierra Verde proved that rule. And get this, the bad guys chased us with a tank. How very unimaginative." 

About half-way there, Jim saw Blair sit back and let the clippers droop between his legs. "The weather was nice, though," he said thoughtfully. "But I'd rather have a day like today. Sunny weather in Cascade is like a gift, you know? All the more precious for its rarity. Wish you were here to see this day, Janet. The sky's so blue today. Yeah, yeah, I know, if you were really here, you'd be telling me to suck it up and get out of this funk. But... I -- I _died_ , Janet. I _died_ , but unlike you, I came back." Jim could hear his hard swallow. "I just wish I knew what makes me better than you." 

Jim didn't try to mask his arrival, but he didn't announce himself either. He slowed as he approached and knew Blair could see his shadow where it fell across Janet's grave. "Nice day to be outside," Jim said softly. 

Blair didn't jump, but he did shake his head slightly and Jim heard his soft snort of laughter. "Jim, man, you pick the oddest times. Why aren't you at work?" 

"Took the day off," he replied, hunching down by his friend; then, with an 'aw, the heck with it' feeling, sprawling on the soft grass, leaning back on his elbows. A butterfly fluttered over to investigate him and he felt an ant crawl up his Nikes. "Too nice a day to stay inside doing paperwork." After a moment, he added, "If you had let me know what you were doing, I would have come to help." 

Blair shrugged one shoulder but didn't answer. Taking a deep breath and studying the blue vault above him, Jim said, "Roy's not here, is he? He's over at --" 

"Southeast," Blair murmured. "Yeah, I finished up there day before yesterday. Uh, Danny Choi is there too. And Jack Pendergrast." 

"But Mike Hurley's here. Your archeologist friend -- Emily?" 

"Yeah. On the other side." 

"And Bud...?" 

"Bud's over at Meadows. I haven't gotten there yet." 

"Ah." Pushing himself upright, Jim folded one leg up and wrapped his arm around the knee. He pulled a long piece of grass out of the ground and stuck one end in his mouth absently, studying his surroundings intently. "Sandburg... why are you doing this?" When Blair didn't answer, he kept on, more softly, "Is it because of what happened at the fountain?" 

Blair fidgeted with the gardening tools. "Yeah... no... well, probably not. Not really." 

Jim chewed on his grass stem and nodded thoughtfully. Typical Sandburg answer. He knew if he kept quiet, eventually more words would come. 

"It's just..." Sandburg at a loss? This must be serious. He didn't seem overly distressed to Jim, though, just -- confused, maybe. "It's stupid. I'm almost thirty years old. And until -- until -- " he sighed, then picked up the clippers and tossed them into the bucket with a metallic clang. "I've never had to say good-bye, Jim. My -- my grandparents died when I was very little, I don't remember them. And there was nobody else, nobody... until..." 

Guilt rose, sour and bilious, and Jim winced. "Until you started hanging out with me." 

"Don't you start, man," Blair said mildly. "This self-deprecation gig you've got going really doesn't suit you." 

"'Self-deprecation gig,' huh?" Jim gave Sandburg an incredulous look before turning back to his grass. 

"You heard me," Blair said firmly. "You're not nearly as inarticulate as you'd like everyone to think you are. And anyway, this isn't about you, not this time. Well, okay, it is, but not in the way you think." From the corner of his eye, Jim could tell that Sandburg was just as studiously avoiding looking at him as he was avoiding looking at Blair. "I've -- never really had to deal with goodbyes. With death. But you... hell, you've been saying goodbye all your life. And I wondered if maybe... if maybe that would help me understand you. Help me, you know, maybe know you better." 

"Know me better?" In his astonishment, Jim blinked and looked directly at Blair. "Sandburg, you know me better than anyone in the world. You know me better than _I_ know me." 

"Oh, yeah?" Blair twisted too, and his calm blue regard unnerved Jim for some reason. "Then how come I didn't know you had a brother until he was a suspect in a murder investigation? How come I didn't know your father was still alive -- even still in Cascade -- until the Country Club Murders? How come I still don't know what was going on in your mind when you threw me out of the loft?" 

Jim couldn't face many of those softly voiced questions before he turned away and refocused on the distance. "You know the answers to those questions, Chief," he said quietly. "Most of them, anyway." He put the mutilated grass stem back into his mouth. 

"Yeah, some of them, I do know, now," Sandburg agreed. "But not all of them." With a thunk, another instrument of lawn torture was tossed into the bucket. 

"I mean," Jim said, as if Blair hadn't spoken, "if anyone doesn't know much about someone around here, I guess, it's me -- what I mean to say is, I don't know that much about you." Realizing how lame that sounded, Jim grimaced. "I -- I'm only just now realizing how much I don't know about you, actually. How much about you there really is to know." 

They sat in silence for a moment before Blair stirred again. "Not quite as shallow as your first guess, huh?" 

"I never thought you shallow, Chief," Jim protested immediately, but Blair just smiled wryly. 

"I seem to recall certain remarks about my love life and table legs, not to mention comparisons to train wrecks," and Jim winced. "I'm not exactly the type of person who would do the entire soccer team on a twenty-dollar bet, Jim," he concluded, not quite hiding his twitching lips behind a wing of hair. 

Ashamed of his past comments, yet grateful Blair had obviously forgiven him of them, Jim said, "Not even for fifty, Chief?" and gave Sandburg a weak grin. 

"Well," Blair hedged, his eyes definitely sparkling with mischief, "I guess it would depend on whether I had rent due." 

"And whether it was the men's or women's team," Jim concluded for him, chuckling. 

"No, that part wouldn't bother me," Blair said wryly, but then turned serious. "What did bother me was that you would think those things of me. It _did_ bother me, Jim." 

"Then you should have told me, Chief," Jim replied, shoving his surprise at Blair's tacit admission about his sexuality aside. "I never meant it to be more than a tease, really. I -- I hope you know, I always trusted you. Always. Especially where it counted." 

Blair studied him for a few moments, not speaking. Jim kept his eyes focused on the trees, the grass, the headstones -- anywhere but on his partner. "Yeah, I do know that," Blair finally said. "Thank you. And you do know a lot about me. You've seen my goddamned baby pictures, man!" 

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, and let me tell you Sandburg, your butt looked better then." They grinned at each other until Jim continued. "Yeah, I saw you bare-assed on the changing table, Chief. But I don't know where that changing table was. I didn't know you'd never had to say goodbye to anyone before -- until you just told me. I know you went to a bunch of playoff games, but I don't know which ones. Or where. So, no, I don't know a lot about you." 

"All you have to do is ask, man." 

"Yeah, well that's real easy for me to do." They both laughed at that, startling a squirrel who chittered angrily at them. Jim threw his mangled blade of grass at the rodent and shook his head. "So -- we don't know each other. Best friends, roomies for more than three years... Well, fuck." 

"Yeah. It bites, doesn't it?" Blair said humorously. "But -- well, I have to admit I'm as much to blame as you, when it comes down to it. I know I avoid stuff -- it's almost like a reflex now with me. Trying to tie me down is probably next to impossible." 

Jim sighed and scrubbed his face with one hand. "Let's skip my kinky fantasies, Chief, and just... let's... let's go home. Grab a few brews, go up to the roof, catch a few rays -- and, well, you know. Talk. Or whatever. Get some Thai takeout. Catch the game tonight. And tomorrow, well..." Jim took a deep breath. "Tomorrow, I'll help you finish up here. Before I go take care of Bud's." 

Sandburg waited just long enough to make Jim nervous before answering. "Okay," he said. 

* * *

Part the Second: In Which Sandburg is Sought 

* * *

On the roof of Prospect Place it was hot and it felt damn good. Sandburg changed into ragged cutoffs and a tank top while Jim put their remaining beer stock -- five bottles and two cans of various brands -- in the rinsed out metal bucket which had held the gardening tools but which now held ice. Then Jim put on a pair of old gym shorts and a muscle t-shirt and they both climbed up to the roof. 

Sandburg sat down in one of the big wooden chairs with a sigh that was pure contentment. "Man, I should have been a lizard," he murmured, tipping his head back and letting his face commune with the dazzle. 

"Chief, I've seen you on winter mornings," Jim said dryly, opening two bottles and passing one over. "You've yet to prove to me you're _not_." 

"Ha ha." 

Following his partner's lead, Jim took a long draught, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the chair. His senses began slowly spinning up and he let them, watching the dials but not too carefully. "Don't let them get too high," Blair whispered, and he grunted his acquiescence. 

Sound and touch were having a field day; sound with the tapestry of noise generated by his city, touch reveling in the heat of the sun, the cooling breeze that tickled his arm and leg hair, the rough satin of the wood under his body. Taste was content -- at the moment -- with the cool rush of microbrew aftertaste. Smell wasn't too happy, but hey, you couldn't have everything. 

"S'nice," Blair whispered. "Good idea, man." 

"Yeah." Jim belched, then took another gulp of beer. "Where'd you grow up, Chief? I figured around here after I met Robert and saw the Washington plates on Naomi's car." 

"Mostly Snohomish and Cascade," Blair said. "But I was born in San Fran man, right in the middle of the summer of lurve." 

Jim snorted. "Now, there's something that doesn't surprise me. I figured it was either that or Naomi dropped you on your head once too often." 

"Hey! I resemble that remark," Blair laughed. "Naomi went to school at Berkeley. I think she was kind of disappointed in me that I didn't follow in her footsteps, so to speak." 

"Here's to you not doing that," Jim said, holding out his beer bottle, but not opening his eyes. Blair clinked their bottles together, and they shared a long sip. 

"Did you join up right out of high school?" Blair asked Jim after a few minutes. 

"Sorta." Jim snuggled down into the chair. "I went through basic right after graduation, pissing Pops off royally, then went ROTC at Duke -- I was commissioned second looey when I graduated." 

"You went to Duke?" Jim rolled his head over and cracked open one eye to look at Blair. 

"Didn't you know that?" 

"No, Jim, I didn't," Blair said, his voice reflecting his exasperation. 

"Oh. I'm sorry, I thought you knew. It was only because it was closer to Parris Island, and I thought I was going to go jarhead at first. But then I got tapped for Rangers, and the rest..." Jim spread his hands. "I thought you knew, Chief." 

"I think that's the story of our friendship, man," Blair said softly. "'I thought you knew.' Well, I didn't. It might have been in the Newsday article, but you know, I didn't read that one very carefully." 

"Just skimmed it looking for dirty pictures." 

"You got it, man." After a little while, Blair added, "So, what did you study?" 

Jim shrugged. "Liberal arts. Girls. Sports. And, uh, some crim jus and poly sci. Anything, really, but business." 

Blair grunted his understanding of that one, finished his bottle and placed the empty carefully next to his chair. He rooted around in the bucket for a moment before pulling out a can of something -- one of the leftovers from their poker night hosting -- and popping the top. "You knew you were going service -- you expected to be a career man," he said after a sip, and Jim knew exactly what he meant. 

"Yeah... I ... yeah. I probably would have too, if it hadn't been for that asshole Oliver." 

"I can see that," Blair said musingly. Jim cracked open one eye and looked at his friend in profile. Blair was no longer worshipping the sun with eyes closed, but was pensively looking out over the city-scape. "A lot of times... well, sometimes, I guess... you have this service mentality that breaks through. This stoic, get-outta-my-way and let-me-do-it-right kind of thing. Although you're usually right, there are times when it can be a real pain in the ass, man." 

Jim frowned and closed the eye he had cracked open, trying to think about that statement from a rational, non-Jim-Ellison point of view. And Blair was right; he could see where his tendency to want to run things _his_ way could make things difficult. It had just never occurred to him that he should even try for a second opinion -- when he saw what had to be done, well, then, he should just do it. Shouldn't he? 

Then Jim thought back to all the times when Blair had known what to do, how to do it -- but had first requested input. Had deferred, even though his way was proven right in the end. Of course, those weren't exactly life-or-death situations, but... Jim nodded. Yeah, he could do a lot better. Of course, he probably wouldn't, but he could always try. 

"Where'd you learn to be so wise, Chief?" Jim asked, not opening his eyes. A rustle told him that Blair had turned and was probably looking at him. "And I'm not referring to book learning. You're one of the smartest guys I know, but you're pretty damn wise too. And you're so young... how'd you learn that? By starting college at 16?" 

Blair made an inarticulate noise somewhere between an incredulous snort and a pleased laugh. "You are so full of it you float, Ellison," he murmured. Jim just grinned and finished his first beer, trying to force himself to overcome entropy enough to grab another. 

"Why did you start so young, Chief?" Jim asked as he finally got the energy to dig for another bottle. 

"Because," Blair sighed, "I was a cocksure, over-educated little piece of shit who thought that being a huge fish in a tiny pond was as good as being bait in an ocean." Jim opened his bottle and looked at Blair, frowning at the bitter, self-flagellating tone. "And Naomi didn't help. She's always been so rah-rah for me. It might have been better to have had a parent who said, wait, hold on, don't push so hard. Be a kid first. But Naomi would let me do anything, any-damn-thing I wanted. Her Blair could do anything, be anything, go for the gold, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Get those Nobel prizes ready, 'cause here comes Blair Sandburg, Naomi Sandburg's pride and joy." 

Not sure what to say about this -- but realizing almost instinctively that Blair was quite correct in his assessment of his mother -- Jim settled for, "She means well, you know that. And she's crazy about you." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Blair replied, sighing gustily. "And I love her for it -- I do. It just... it didn't quite prepare me for the real world, you know?" 

Jim had to agree to that one. 

It was hard to hold on to any anger in the heat of the day, and soon the two men found the mellow mood dropping on them again. With a sigh that sounded like it vented the last of his tension, Blair said, "So what was it like growing up with a little brother?" 

"What was it like growing up an only child?" Jim shot back, snorting. 

"Touche," Blair laughed. "We all want the opposite of what we had, right?" 

"The grass is always greener, Chief," Jim agreed. "However, in my case, it was usually because the neighbors were painting it. It wasn't much fun growing up in the Ellison household." 

"No, I don't imagine it was," Blair replied, sympathy in his voice. "Is that what's kept you from settling down, raising a family? Your bad experience as a kid?" 

"Huh," Jim said, blinking. His first thought had been to immediately deny that, but then he realized that it sounded -- right. "I -- I don't know," he finally said, slowly. "Maybe. I mean, I like kids, I really do. Little ones especially -- they bring out these protective feelings and before you say *any*thing, I haven't a clue if that's a Sentinel thing and _don't_ want to find out." Blair nearly snorted beer through his nose to keep from laughing at that. "You might have a point though, Sandburg. Caro and I talked about kids, but never seriously. I don't know." 

"You'd make a good dad, Jim," Blair said. "Well, to a boy, anyway. I have a feeling any girls would be fitted for chastity belts early on." Jim threw his bottle cap at him. 

"Okay, Mendel, why haven't _you_ settled down yet? If we all want what we didn't have, that must mean you want a passel of kids." 

Rather than answering immediately, Blair frowned and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe..." he said. "Maybe with the right person. But it hasn't ever been a real burning desire, you know? I think of myself with a family, with a house and a mini-van and a second mortgage, and I don't get any ringing chimes. I don't think I have your affinity with kids, either. Maybe it's somewhere in my future, but it's a long ways off, I think." 

Jim sat and stared at Blair, trying to digest this information. It didn't fit into what Jim had designated his 'Blair mold' and Jim wasn't sure how to take it. He had always felt that the other man was on the verge, ready to settle into the life of a tenured academic with a faculty spouse, 2.5 children and a house with a picket fence, to which he'd come home after a hard day of flunking freshmen. Jim wasn't sure where this idea had come from, but it had been gradually developed over their three plus years of their friendship, until to hear Blair refute it came as something of a shock. 

Blair took another sip of his brew then turned his head to look at Jim, who was still staring. "What? You think I'm more the marrying kind? After the kind of mother I had?" 

Jim closed his mouth and shook his head, still trying to reconcile the two pictures he was developing in his overloaded brain. "Just... took me by surprise, I think. I think you've got a great affinity with kids, Chief, hell, you're practically one yourself." 

Rolling his eyes, Blair picked a piece of ice from the bucket and tossed it at Jim. "Okay, man, truth or dare time for that one." 

"Oh, no, you don't Sandburg..." Jim began, but Blair cut him off with a laugh and a rude hand gesture. 

"Chill. I was just yanking your chain. But I am gonna start asking you some more personal questions -- seeings how you're suddenly so amenable to talking." 

"Like...?" 

"Okay... like... ah... who was your first kiss? Real kiss, romantic -- mothers, maiden aunts and funny uncles don't count." 

Jim lazily waved his middle finger before replying. "Let's see... real kiss. Uh... oh. Yeah. Jenny Bailey, in eighth grade. At the spring dance. She expected me to kiss her, I could tell, even though I didn't really want to. I was too nervous -- for damn good reason too." He fell silent, took a sip of his beer, and waited for the explosion. He didn't have long to wait. 

"Well? What happened?" Sandburg was actually leaning on the arm of his chair, a huge, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Too easy. Jim sighed theatrically before continuing. 

"So, I figured I had to do it, I mean, everyone was expecting me to do it and if I didn't, you know, the gossip would have been just beyond anything. I took a deep breath, leaned over to kiss her, but she moved the same way I did. We bumped noses, and when she said 'ow,' our mouths touched and somehow our braces locked together and nearly ripped my lips off. It took two of the adult chaperones to get us unhooked successfully. Glad I could entertain you, Sandburg." 

Blair was howling, slapping his thigh over the story. "Oh, man... that's... oh... MAN!" 

Despite himself, Jim was grinning too. A quarter-century's worth of hindsight could put the entire embarrassing event into perspective, and it _was_ pretty damn funny. Once Blair had managed to calm down, he said, "Okay, Shecky, your turn." 

"Well, it wasn't _nearly_ as good as that, Jim," Blair said, still chuckling. "But I was a hell of a lot younger. Ten years old, with Rainbow Wasserman, and yes that's her real name, and I didn't like it at all. The kiss, not her name, you dope. Of course, it took another seven years and university co-eds for me to discover the joys of real kissing, but the stipulation was first kiss." 

"'Rainbow Wasserman?' Where did you grow up again?" 

Blair threw another ice cube at him. "I told you, Snohomish. She was one of Naomi's friends' kids. We all hung out together -- it was like some kind of new-age, hippy-commune-kibbutz thing. I'm just glad that Naomi only gave me a girl's name. I mean, I could have been named Cloud or Love or... or..." 

"Moon Unit," Jim said, grinning ear to ear with the thought of Blair being named anything other than Blair. 

"Taken, man. Although I hear she calls herself Jennifer or something else prosaic now." 

Taking another sip of beer, Blair pointed a finger at Jim. "Okay, virginity. Who'd you lose it to?" 

Jim gave him a frosty look, but Blair would not be dissuaded. "Come on, come on. Give. It can't be half as embarrassing as the first kiss story." 

Shaking his head, Jim leaned back again and closed his eyes. "Sarah Inverson." He smiled slightly as the memory of the pretty blonde girl came back strongly to him. "We went steady for most of high school. She was kind of a nerd too, come to think of it; she was in the choir and the chess club, was quiet and didn't mind just sitting, you know? Being quiet together. We'd have these long, philosophical discussions about life, the universe and everything, then neck for hours." And she had this habit of rubbing his nose with hers before they parted for the night, kind of like a signature caress, kind of like marking him as hers. Something that endeared her to him. "The summer before our senior year, when I had pretty much decided what I was going to do, we went all the way. She told me she would wait, that we'd hook up again after college, and we'd be together." Jim sighed. 

"So, what happened?" Blair asked softly. 

"The Rangers happened; covert ops happened, Peru happened," Jim said, shrugging and swallowing a gulp of beer past the sudden lump in his throat. "We grew up. She's married... She sent me a letter after I was found and told me she'd never given up hope. I replied and wished her all the best. She's got two kids that look like her and seems to be happy. I hope she's happy." The two friends were quiet for a time, then Jim turned to Blair. "Okay, your turn." 

Blair blinked at him for a moment, then slowly flushed and squirmed slightly in his chair. Jim grinned; he loved to hoist Sandburg by his own petard. "Well, technically..." Blair began, after a long sip of beer, "you would have to define 'losing virginity' in this case since there are many ways..." 

Jim could tell Sandburg was slipping into lecture mode so he head that off at the pass. "Oh, no you don't Sandburg. No whatayacallem's, obfuscations on this one." 

"But it's true," Blair protested. "I mean, there I was at college, this 16 year old hairy geek, among all these tall, gorgeous goddesses... who wouldn't give me the time of day. Until, well, this girl, Patsy. Patsy Argutter. Who _would_ give me the time of day, and with whom I fell totally, utterly head over heels in lust with, but who was 'saving herself for marriage.' Not that she wouldn't go down on me, you understand, but nothing else. Man, that chick was seriously twisted. I swore off girls for a year after her." 

"Wait a minute," Jim said, frowning. "You mean, she'd go down on you, but wouldn't let you get past that? And she called that 'saving herself for marriage?' Sandburg, how do you _pick_ them?" 

"God's own truth, my brother," Blair said sourly. We could only do certain things, Miss Patsy and I. If it violated her particular standard, it was uh-uh, no way. I spent most of six months with a near terminal case of blue-balls. Even with all the mouth action. But for actual penetration, well, that'd have to be Phil, because like I said, I swore off girls for a year after Patsy." 

Jim blinked. "Phil?" 

"Yeah, Phil Lorriman. One of the nicest guys I've ever met. He set me straight on girls, love, what was and wasn't 'normal' for a guy and a girl to do, what was and wasn't 'normal' for two guys to do, all of it. I still send him Christmas and birthday cards every year, and get them back from him. If it hadn't been for him... damn. I might not have ended up Cascade's greatest babe-magnet, which would have been a crying shame." 

"In your dreams," Jim laughed, and Sandburg stuck out his tongue in rebuke. But Jim kept thinking, Phil? 

"So, tell me, Captain Ellison," Blair said, getting both of them a new brew, "who was your Phil? And don't you dare try to tell me you didn't have one, man, you were in the Army!" 

"Oh, for... tell me, _why_ does everyone and their damn aunt assume that everyone in the Army is gay?" Jim demanded, suddenly pissed. "'Cause I sure as hell didn't see it. Not during basic, not on assignment... nothing." 

"You're kidding." Blair looked almost floored. "Even when it was just you and a handful of other guys, all alone in a steamy jungle or whatever... none of the ol'..." Blair made a rude hand gesture and Jim reflected on how much he hated that. 

"No, Sandburg, none of _that_ ," he almost snapped. "To tell you the truth, when it was just me and a handful of other guys alone wherever, we were usually to piss-scared to do anything but skip sleep and stand guard. And when we were near town, well, we were near town. You know." Blair nodded thoughtfully, but didn't say anything. "There were guys that I was pretty sure preferred the left side of the zipper, but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them." Jim shrugged, letting go of his inappropriate anger. "It just gets me sometimes that people automatically think 'Army' and 'queer' go together or something." 

"Well, not exactly that," Blair said pensively. "There's almost a cultural acceptance of the 'brotherhood of arms' paradigm, you see. Well, no, I guess accepted isn't exactly the right term -- better said that it is nearly expected that camaraderie is extended beyond the back-slapping and butt-fondling that is seen by outsiders." Blair thoughtfully pulled at his beer, frowning into the distance. "I would have -- in fact, I did assume -- that it had been as much a part of your Army experience as basic training. I mean, man, come on. You wear a flowered apron!" 

"Don't start with the apron thing again, Sandburg," Jim growled at him, pursing his lips to keep from grinning. "I've known openly gay men and women since the Army, but I'm afraid my experiences within that particular closed society were mind-numbingly boring. Sorry." 

"Damn. There goes my monograph, the effects of homosexual behavior on the modern Sentinel within the closed society of the -- _hey_!" Blair squirmed away from Jim's icy fist as Jim tried to dump several ice cubes down his shirt. 

"I'm going to hurt you, I really am," Jim laughed, flicking his damp fingers dry. 

"You are so _mean_ to me," Blair tried to whine, the effect ruined by the chuckles that kept breaking through. 

"You moron," Jim belched and added another dead soldier to the rank and file between their chairs. The sun was rapidly westering but the afternoon was still warm and breezy. "Actually," Jim said after a while, "you kinda surprised me there with Phil. I'd always assumed you were, well, pretty much straight." 

"Ah, straight, bent, whatever," Blair said, his voice sounding content and not a little sloshed. "Gays really hate the term 'bisexual', you know. But I would guess that's closer to what I am than anything." 

"They do?" Jim frowned, trying to figure that out. 

"Yeah, it has to do with being neither one nor the other, as if not being able to make up your mind was a sin or something." 

"'Neither fish nor fowl, nor good red hen,'" Jim quoted softly. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. Doesn't seem fair, though." 

"Your voice -- God's ears, man. I've just tended to stay with women anyway. They can be so much fun." 

"Yeah, I've heard that," Jim said wryly, shifting as a thought hit him. "What's it like?" 

"What? Being with a woman?" Blair's voice was dry and so utterly full of bullshit that Jim rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, sorry, couldn't help it, man," he chuckled. "You set yourself up, you know." Blair scrunched further down in the chair, relaxing in the completely boneless way he had sometimes. "Better ask me what it was like growing up an only child. I dunno... isn't any relationship predicated on the person, not the gender? I mean, I got along with Phil a hellova lot better than I ever did with Patsy. Sex was better too, but that was because Pats was seriously twisted and Phil had no real inhibitions." 

Jim frowned. "It can't be as easy as that, Sandburg. A gay relationship? I mean, it's not like norm here, right? You've got your societal pressures, you've got your family pressures, I mean, wouldn't that also seriously fuck with your body image, your, your, ego or whatever?" 

Blair shrugged. "I never found it did. Man, I could sit here and discuss this back and forth with you for hours... the effects of homophobia on our seriously fucked up culture, the whole enchilada. Truth is, each person deals with it as he or she can. With equanimity, or with howling terror. Some go postal and mow down a rainbow parade, while others simply fall quietly in love with someone -- of either their own or the opposite gender -- but can't ever move past platonic to sexual." He sighed -- sadly, it seemed to Jim -- before finishing. "For whatever reason." 

They sat in quiet thought for quite a while after that, Jim mulling over Blair's words in his analytical, pull-it-apart and see-how-it-ticks way; turning and twisting them and uncovering layer upon layer of meaning. "That's..." He frowned. "That's really kinda profound, Chief. I never really thought about it that way... well, I never really thought about it at all, I guess, but what you said..." 

"You know, there's lots of morons at the precinct that think we're lovers," Blair said suddenly. "I know you have to be aware of the rumors. But you've never said anything. Doesn't it bother you? Or... holy shit, I bet it really bothers you now, since you didn't know I was bi... oh fuck. I'm sorry, Jim!" 

"For what?" Jim gave him an incredulous glare. "You think it changes how I see you to know that you knocked boots with another guy? Please. As for the morons, that's all they are. Morons. End discussion." 

Blair blinked at him. "You... sometimes you astonish me, man. You know, if you were the stereotypical macho American male, you'd be dropping me off the roof about now." 

"Well, don't bet the farm yet, Romeo, you may still drive me to it," Jim countered, and returned Sandburg's grin. "But it won't be because of that. I'm hungry. You hungry? Let's get downstairs and get dinner." 

"I'm down with that," Blair said, trying and failing to follow Jim to his feet. "Whoa!" 

"You are such a lightweight, Sandburg," Jim said, and hauled his friend to his feet. For a moment, as he steadied Blair against him, he was hyperaware of his friend's proximity. Experimentally, he tried looking at Sandburg not as a buddy, or a roomie, but as a potential lover, someone possibly worth taking to bed, holding and loving. It was an odd feeling at first, but one that had the strangest appeal. Draping one arm around Blair's shoulder and hefting the bucket with ice and empties in the other, he moved them to the roof door, still bemused by their conversation and the strange feeling. 

* * *

Part the Third: In Which Ellison is Found 

* * *

Dinner was good, the game was bad -- whoever told the Mariners to bench Porterfield was a fucking idiot -- and by eleven both men were ready for bed. Jim passed by Blair's room after using the bathroom and stopped to say good night. Blair was doing his usual shuffling around, straightening one pile here and starting another there, already dressed for sleep in boxers and t-shirt. "Night, Chief," Jim said, shaking his head at the ongoing disaster that was Sandburg's room. 

"Oh, night, Jim," Blair replied. "Still up for it tomorrow?" 

"Sure," Jim said, leaning against the door jamb. "No hurry, though. Maybe we can go out for breakfast first." 

"Sounds good." 

"Great. Your treat." Jim grinned when Blair flipped him off without even looking at him. "Thanks for the conversation too, Chief. You gave me a lot to think about." 

Blair finally finished his arcane fumbling and dropped to his futon, scratching vigorously at his head. "Then my work is complete," he said facetiously. "I made the throwback think." 

"Oh, up yours, Shecky. I'm going to bed. Night." 

"Night, man." 

Even though it was late and he was tired, sleep eluded Ellison. He tossed and turned, their conversation continually running through his head. Odd how he had never looked at Blair as more than a friend until Blair admitted to his bisexuality. Odd that said admission would even affect him. 

Blair must have been just as restless, because Jim heard him tossing under his covers as well. Finally, just as Jim was about to give it up and go downstairs for some warm milk or a shot of bourbon or maybe just a hammer to the head, he heard Sandburg sigh and say his name. 

"Jim? Jim? I know you're awake, I can hear the bed creak when you move," Sandburg said, his voice not much more than a whisper. "No need to come down or anything, I just... I don't know. I think you must be as weirded out by our conversation as I was, maybe? I mean, if you weren't, you can just dial me down." 

_Fat chance of that, Chief,_ Jim thought, but Blair wasn't finished. "But I think... I mean, I know for me, it kind of, well, startled me. 

"I won't say that I've never been attracted to you -- man, you have _got_ to know how good looking you are. But I think that's one of the things I like best about you -- to you, your body isn't for show, it's just another tool. You keep it honed and conditioned because, well, it's what you need to do your job. You don't preen. 

"And you aren't exactly my type either. Oh, man, I can see the finger waving from here. And the grin. But it's true. I lean more towards leggy blondes, man. More hair anyway. Although your arm hair... oh, never mind. I'm teasing someone who's not in the same room with me and I don't even know if he's listening! I'm so lame." 

Jim rolled over and muffled his laughter in a pillow. Sandburg could talk the hind leg off a horse and appeared to be willing to prove it. 

"But I do know one thing. I mean, I wonder one thing. I mean.... well, shit. Now you got me thinking about it... All's I can think of now is you. You and me. You know, together." 

_Yeah, me too,_ Jim thought, rolling back over and looking up through the skylight to the stars. 

"And it's weird. I've just never thought about you like that. I mean, I love you, and I know you love me -- and boy doesn't that make me feel sometimes like a little kid again and one crack about the height and I'm coming up there." Once again Jim muffled his snort of laughter, this time with the arm he flung over his face. "I guess it's the thought of us, well, sharing a bed sounds kinda formal but I suppose that's what it'd be -- I just never thought of it. But now that I have... I just can't let go. 

"Now, it might be interesting to do a bit of a thought experiment here," Blair added after a moment. His voice took on a slightly dreamier tone. "I mean, there's no fooling the lesser head. He's either interested or he's not, you know? So, I wonder... would Sandburg junior find Ellison attractive? And would... maybe... Ellison junior feel the same about Sandburg? We can find out now, you know. Right here. If it works, well, it works, and we think about it some more. If it doesn't work for one of us, well, it didn't happen. One of the nice perks about you being a Sentinel, man." 

Jim felt a momentary flash of panic as Blair's words sank in. Find out? Test an hypothesis, the validity of which meant that he might be sexually attracted to Blair? Did he even want to _think_ about that? 

Then sanity kicked in and Jim realized, this was _Sandburg_. If there was anyone in the entire world who he trusted more, well... there wasn't. And Blair was right, Jim did love him. Love, trust. What else? Maybe... lust? 

"It feels a bit strange to be doing this, I mean, generally I wait until I think you aren't listening or are asleep or have the white noise generator on, but to do it deliberately... I'm not sure I can even, well, you know. But in the interests of science, man... nothing I won't do for science, you know..." 

Through the smile in his words, Jim heard the thread of trepidation, but also heard determination. _He's really going to do it,_ Jim thought, as other sounds indicated Blair slipping out of his boxers and t-shirt. Oddly enough, the vulnerability of the situation made Jim feel all the more strongly for Blair in this instance. 

"Okay, so. First things first, right? I mean, I know what you look like naked, you might as well be a nudist, man. It's not hard to conjure that up. Like that time whatsername made you drop your towel, you know, on the rig? I -- well, I admit, I peeked. Okay, okay, I ogled. Happy?" 

Jim grinned foolishly and with a sudden movement, skinned out of his boxers. He hadn't seen Sandburg naked often, but he knew enough about that sturdy, hairy frame that it wasn't hard to picture him. And Jim had the added benefit of sense memory... and the pheromones wafting up from below his bed. 

"Well, huh. Yeah, I think the lesser head is a bit interested after all," Blair said rather breathlessly. Now, if this is purely a lust thing or what, I don't know. But the idea of you -- naked -- with me -- yeah, it's doing things to the ol' libido here. But I bet you knew that, didn't you, Jim? I bet you can smell it already. Hear it too." 

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Jim closed his eyes and realized that, yeah, he could smell it. A sharp male tang that meant arousal, overlaid with Blair's own scent, one that was as familiar as home was to Jim. The situation was quite erotic, and to his surprise, Jim felt his cock begin to fill. With a soft groan, he put his hand over it, lightly running the edge of his fingernail up the side. Yeah, that was working. 

"I've wondered, I mean, I'm a sexual being and sex is important, so I've wondered what it would be like to make love as a sentinel. To a sentinel. Is it more difficult to filter out the uncomfortable parts? Do you find yourself getting turned off by the stranger things? Or is it all good, all heady and hot and wet and damn, yeah, that felt good. Oh." 

Jim heard the slight scrape of flesh on flesh and instantly tried to categorize it. A rougher sound meant chest hair -- a slight gasp might mean nipples being pinched. He distinctly heard Blair's tongue come out to wet lips and his half-hardness went to full -- suddenly, shockingly -- at the thought of Blair's mouth. Would Blair want to...? 

"Phil and I tried everything, just about," Blair was saying. A rhythmic fleshy sound translated into a slow jacking motion, and quite consciously, Jim found himself mimicking it on his own body. "I even fucked him, a couple of times. I -- was a little too scared, a little too young, to try it myself. But I do know one thing, I like having my ass played with. It sounds gross at first, but the first time you have your finger or a toy or even better, a lover's finger, up there, it's just like whoa nelly. It can get really, really good, Jim. Trust me on this." 

_Never even been interested,_ Jim thought, but just to see, just because Sandburg said it was good and what Sandburg said was almost always right, he let one hand wander back, behind his balls to rub over his perineum. Yeah, that felt nice, he knew that there was a good pressure point there somewhere. But the asshole? Gently, Jim let his fingers wander, closing his eyes as he did so, letting touch dial up slightly. He bent his knee and lightly dragged his forefinger over the portal to his body -- and gasped. Just as Blair did. 

"Yeah, that's it, oh, that feels good... uh... I mean... shit. Sorry, got kinda diverted there. Would... would you be interested in exploring that with me some day, Jim? Can I fantasize about your hand where mine is now, your finger -- uh -- where mine is?" Blair's voice sounded almost shy, and softened even more, so that Jim had to adjust hearing up a notch. "I -- I think I'd like that, Jim, I think I would." A swallow. Jim gulped himself, realizing how hard he was, how hot the whole situation was. 

"I think I'd like to explore your body, Jim." Blair was panting now, and his hand was moving faster. "It must feel fantastic, all that silky skin over all that hard muscle. You're so smooth... I envy you that, you know. You don't look real sometimes, I just want to reach out and touch you, see if you feel as hot and as hard and soft as you look." 

Jim whimpered softly. Oh, yeah, this was good. This was... fuck, this was better than any palm session had been in _years_. Hell, it was better than it had been the last time he had gotten laid, whenever that was. And Blair wasn't even in the same room with him. 

"I can see you in my mind's eye, Jim," Blair whispered. Desperately, Jim wondered what he was doing, how he was doing it. Was he holding his dick hard, with his whole hand, like Jim was doing, or was he jacking it with just a few fingers, massaging it? What did it look like? Was it big or small, thick? Long? Did it matter? Yeah, Jim thought, it matters. Fuck it matters. The need to see was almost overwhelming. "You've got that sultry smile on your face, I've seen it once or twice. Damn, this feels so fucking, fucking good, but it'd be better with you. God. Jim, man... I wish I could kiss you." 

Pulling hard at his cock, Jim moved the hand playing with his hole to his balls, rolling them, squeezing them gently as he thought about kissing Blair, kissing Blair's lush, beautiful mouth. That was one of the first things he'd noticed about Sandburg, that mouth. Blair began to pant harder and groan. "God. Jim. I'm -- oh, fuck. Yeah. Yeah. Oh... god... Jim, I'm coming... I'm going to come... please... Jim! Yeah! JimJimJIM!" 

The sharp scent of semen. The sound of Blair convulsing, keening and grunting with each spurt. The sudden, shocking, incredible sensation of orgasm that ripped through Jim and tore a shout from his throat... "BLAIR!" 

Gasps, pants. Both men tried to catch their breath, tried to regulate their breathing and heart rate and blood pressure. Jim realized the sticky mess on his lower belly was getting cold, and reached for his discarded boxers to mop it up. As he did so, he also realized that he had a dopey, satiated smile on his face that simply would not go away. 

From downstairs, there were noises that indicated to Jim that Blair was doing the same as he was. After a few more minutes, Blair's voice drifted back to him, sounding as sated and dreamy as Jim felt. "God. God. Okay, as a thought experiment, I think that worked pretty damn well. What do you think, Jim? Did I really hear what I thought I heard? God. Jim. This... It's kind of overwhelming, man. But you know, if you don't want to ever think about it again, we don't have to. If it did nothing for you, I mean. That's what the experiment was all about, you know." 

"Yeah, I know, Chief," Jim replied gently, happily, from the doorway to Blair's room. 

Blair looked up from his nest of blankets and smiled.

end


End file.
